Never Used To It
by ClusiveC
Summary: This is the story of a UNSC Marine by the name of Coore. This is how the war is on the front lines for warriors like him. Wins and losses. Death everywhere. Kill or be killed. This young marine must go beyond the limits to ensure that he survives, day by day. Every firefight is a do or die situation. If he can keep is cool, then maybe he'll survive. But you never get used to it.


ClusiveC.

_**Never Used To It**_

** Part One - Close Calls and Shallow Hopes **- The Battle of Ballast.

* * *

Coore operated the machine gun on the back of a warthog, bobbing up and down every time they hit a rock.

"Step on it, Casey!" Coore yelled, targeting the approaching Covenant banshees.

"I am!" She yelled back at him. The warthog got airborne for a second as they hit a small rise in the ground. Coore had to hold on tight to avoid falling off.

The banshees were gaining fast, and they began opening fire. Blue plasma struck the ground right behind the warthog, leaving dark marks in the road. Several shots hit the rear of the warthog, melting into the thick armor of the vehicle. _Just a little closer..._ The banshees were just outside of the machine gun's effective range, and were holding tight to their position. Coore could feel the heat from the plasma rounds as they struck the back of the warthog where he was.

The three banshees swooped down closer, getting within range of the LAAG. They could fire their bombs at that distance, so Coore wasted no time. He fired the gun at the closest one, the machine gun shaking his arms and hands violently. The teeth inside his head rattled and vibrated. It was loud. The bullets tagged the banshee, a hailstorm of them piercing through its armor. Smoke billowed from the backside of it. The left wing was blown off and the banshee spun out of control, before crashing into the side of a tall building.

The cannons on the other two were heating up. Coore aimed at the next one and fired, hitting the banshee head on. It was taking a beating from the bullets, but the cannon on it was turning a white hot color. _Chunk-chunk-chunk-chunk... _The machine gun sounded. Bouncing up and down from the speeding warthog, some of the rounds missed it, but he finally destroyed it. The banshee detonated just in time, leaving a black cloud of smoke in the air. Pieces of wreckage rained down onto the ground below.

Coore aimed at the next one - but he was too late. The large blob of hot plasma fired from the banshee, heading straight for the warthog.

"Incoming!" He called out. The super heated plasma was hurtling towards them.

Casey turned the steering wheel at the last second. The bomb hit the ground beside the warthog, exploding violently. Heat washed over Coore. The concussion from the blast rocked the hog. He held on tight as they fishtailed for several meters. He fell and landed on his back, lying on the back of the warthog, holding on for his life. Casey didn't slow down at all, and he fought to stand back up. Coore's vision was slightly blurred as he got back on the gun.

The banshee was still coming, charging up for another shot.

Coore gritted his teeth together and fired. The barrel was spinning in a blur, tossing 100 rounds every 4 seconds. Round after round slammed into the incoming banshee, causing heavy damage. Black smoke leaked out of it and the wing on the right side was blown off. It began to spin wildly, and the pilot of it was fighting for control. Coore didn't let up, gunning down the aircraft. The banshee plummeted to the ground and exploded in a fiery blaze. He watched the smoke climb up from the ground for a few more seconds, before Casey turned the warthog down another street. That engagement had been a close call. He'd almost gotten thrown out of the warthog, melted by plasma rounds, and almost vaporized by the banshee bombs.

Coore took a deep breathe, loosening his grip on the LAAG. His knuckles had gotten pale white from the death grip. His heart beat began to slow down back to normal. He was fairly new and still hadn't gotten used to the firefights and the general life of a marine. He looked over his shoulder at Casey.

"So... Are we there yet?" He asked her. They had head out to Outpost Charlie nearly an hour ago, back before things went sour in Aloe City.

* * *

_About an hour__ ago. _

**Aloe City - East Side.**

Coore was hunkered down behind a destroyed car at one end of a public park, looking out across a field of small hills and green grass and trees and small bridges. Small rivers cut through the land, crisscrossing and overlapping, creating a maze of water. Silvery white trees stood peacefully inside the oasis of the park, moving with the wind and dropping leaves every once in a while. Bushes and large boulders and rocks were thrown about, as well. Coore had managed to pick a few berries a little earlier. The park looked like a nice place to visit when you were looking for a place to relax. His platoon, First platoon, was ordered to defend Aloe National Park until further notice. They'd all been dug in at the grassy site for a while now, engaging small groups of grunts every now and then. Nothing serious. But Coore was still on edge.

First platoon now consisted of about 14 marines in total, a major difference from the original number of marines, which was 36. Over half of the guys, gone. 22 marines were either wounded, missing, or just flat out dead. Coore had calculated that 65% of those 22 guys were KIA. Terrible day to be a marine.

"I just don't see what's the point in holding this area..." Coore said to Casey. She was kneeling down next to him on his right, waiting and watching just like he was doing. He looked at her, waiting to hear her response. Casey's dark red hair was cut a little short, resting on her neck. She turned towards Coore, her grey eyes looking at him.

"We're getting paid to do what they say and go where they tell us to go. I don't know about you, but I don't mind sitting here. It's better than having to walk around all day." Her voice was smooth and cool.

"Well, I don't like it. They should at least send us some reinforcements or somethin'. I mean, come on, look at this.." Coore swept his arm out, presenting the situation that First platoon was in. They had wounded guys still fighting. Ammunition was starting to be a concern. And the Covenant hadn't let up all day. It was only a matter of time before they sent in some hunters and brutes.

"You usually don't complain, Coore." Casey told him. He thought for a second and a half. He concluded that she was right.

Coore wasn't sure what it was, but he was a bit shaky today. Maybe it was because his platoon had lost so many guys in such a short time. He was scared. Coore had always been scared, ever since he was a little kid, growing up on Reach. He remembered how he would hold his mother's hand and cling to her side, way back then. He remembered his first day of Church, putting on his little suit, feeling like a man but was actually afraid to go out in public. Everything used to raise an alarm to him. Fearing that criminals would try to rob him, and other stuff like that. That all led to Coore growing up as a teenager with few friends and nothing much to say. It wasn't that long ago, but it felt like an eternity since he was a teen back on Reach.

Coore sighed and shrugged, grabbed a handful of the berries that he'd picked earlier, and popped them into his mouth. They were sweet and juicy, and he savored the sugary taste. He chewed slowly, like always, enjoying the fruit while it lasted.. They tasted great.

Then he heard the familiar sound of Covenant drop ships on approach. It was getting closer and louder, quickly.

Lieutenant Hayes was the leader of First platoon. His face was scarred and marked with dirt. He was off to the right side of the park, behind a row of sandbags and some MG emplacements. "Incoming! Far side!" Lieutenant Hayes yelled. His voice was heavy and deep, and Coore heard him clearly over the comlink.

A trio of Covenant phantoms swooped in on the far side of the park, spreading out and flying low. The ground shimmered beneath them as they lowered down to drop off enemy troops. The main guns opened fire, sending a volley of suppressive fire into the ranks of the marines. A steady rhythm of of shots blasted out from the cannons, smacking the ground and forcing the marines in the open to run for cover.

Coore picked up his BR55 rifle from the ground beside him and aimed. The phantoms spread out further, one in the middle, and one on either side of the field. Their sides opened up, revealing an interior packed with Covenant troops. A chill ran down Coore's spine when he saw how many it was. His grip on the BR55 tightened.

Several rockets began to fly from several directions. Lieutenant Hayes was directing fire from his position at the sandbags. The 2 MG emplacements were opening fire on the phantom to the right, and the rocket teams were firing at the one on the left.

Bullets from the MG nest were peppering the phantom, nailing the side of it. Coore watched from his position behind the destroyed vehicle. Blood splattered out of it, killing some of the Covenant troops before they had a chance to disembark. The bullets were doing no good on the armor of the phantom, but the Covenant forces were being ripped apart. The remaining Covenant troops made it off, seeking cover and returning fire on Lieutenant Hayes' position. Plasma rounds were nailing the sandbags, melting through the cover.

The rocket teams on the left side of the park were slamming the phantom closest to them. Three rockets streamed towards it from a small tree line. The first one missed, flying harmlessly over the top of it. The second one slammed into the side of the phantom, knocking out a pair of Jackals and killing a plasma repeater door gunner. Blood splattered out of the door way. Large chunks of armor were blown off, dealing a heavy blow to the phantom. The second rocket hit right after the first one, and the main cannon on it was destroyed in a ball of fire, shaking the phantom. A group of Covenant troops hopped off of it on the undamaged side, opening up on the rocket team dug in at the tree line.

There were 4 marines on the right side, and 4 on the left. That left 6 marines to defend the center ground, including Coore. The main cannon on the middle phantom erupted, showering the ground with plasma rounds. One of the marines was vaporized under an intense hail of plasma from the door gunner of the phantom. Coore aimed at the door gunner, and fired. The grunt manning the plasma cannon was tagged in the head by a three round burst. The sickly colored blood spewed from its head, and the grunt fell to the ground.

Jackals, grunts, and a pair of elites hopped out of the phantom and took up position. The jackals got in front, overlapping their shields to create a wall and advanced slowly. The grunts fell in behind them, taking cover in the back of the formation. The two elites broke off to either side, both of them wielding plasma repeaters and moving fast.

Coore fired into the formation, peppering the energy shields of the jackals, trying to find an open spot. They were too well defended. The two elites returned fire with the plasma repeaters, sending a volley of hot plasma in the direction of the marines. Coore ducked low to avoid getting hit.

Lieutenant Hayes' voice crackled in his ear. "Get a grenade over the jackal shields. They're too tight to try and find an open spot to shoot." There was constant small arms fire in the background, but Coore heard him well enough. He was right. There was no way they'd shoot their way into the lines of the jackals. He looked over at Casey.

"Try to throw one over their shields." He said to her. Coore didn't like throwing grenades. "I'll cover you. Do it."

Coore aimed and fired at the elites. Their shields shimmered and deflected his bullets, not doing much harm to either of them. They dived and rolled, avoiding the 3 round bursts as much as possible, preventing them from getting a clear shot. Casey stood up and primed a frag grenade, throwing it across the field into the enemy lines. The grenade landed right in front of the jackals and rolled underneath their shields. Perfect.

It exploded in a wild blast, blowing away 3 jackals and killing off most of the grunts. They screamed in agony, being blown into pieces. Their formation was scattered. Coore aimed at one of the remaining jackals and shot it with several bursts from his BR55. It fell, dead before it hit the ground, and twitched twice.

The last jackals halted their advance, their shields being hammered with bullets. They traded shots with the marines. The two elites were still advancing, though. Coore focused his fire on the one to the left side. The ammo counter in his BR hit 0, and he swapped clips. His ammo counter went back to 36, and he continued to fire. Another marine fired at the elite from close range. Assault rifle rounds pinged off of the elites energy shield, unable to break the shield. The elite dived and rolled, getting within arms distance of the marine, and fired point blank. Plasma rounds peeled away at the marine, burning away his skin. Coore tried to save him, but it was too late.

Finally, the energy shield flickered away and died, leaving the elite exposed. Coore pulled the trigger rapidly, tagging the blue armored alien. Blood spewed from its wounds, causing deadly damage. It howled in pain and fell to one knee, unable to withstand the volley of bullets. A three round burst to the head finally killed the elite.

Coore reloaded his BR and searched for the other elite. The crimson armored alien was engaging the other two marines, trading shots with them. The jackals and grunts had regrouped and continued their advance, gaining ground. Plasma rounds smacked the destroyed vehicle that Coore was using for cover. He could feel the heat from the plasma pistols. Needler rounds smashed and crackled and exploded. He blind fired at the enemy troops, trying to buy himself some breathing room. Across the park, the tree line where the rocket teams had been was swarmed with grunts and jackals. There was no way anybody could be alive in that. On the other side of the field, the MG emplacements had been destroyed, leaving the four marines to fend off a large wave of Covenant. A team of elites was advancing on Lieutenant Hayes' position, along with a squad of jackals. A charged plasma round struck the vehicle, showering Coore with heat and blistering his right arm slightly, forcing him to duck back down. This fight was over.

"Everybody! Fall back! Get the hell out of -" Lieutenant Hayes was cut off by an explosion, then static. _Is he dead? _Coore thought. There was no time to find out. He tapped Casey on the shoulder. She was firing her assault rifle, killing a stray grunt with a hail of bullets. The small creature squirmed and twitched before it died.

"We have to get out of here!" He yelled over the sound of Covenant plasma fire. "Follow me!" Their only hope was the warthog that Mechanic Edwards was working on. With luck, the engine would be fixed once they got there. The elite major and the jackal squad would be too much for them to take on.

Coore stood up and fired a few bursts into the direction of the enemy troops, then broke off in a sprint. He kept his head low, running for a building that sat to the side of them. If they could round the corner, then they'd have some breathing room. Plasma rounds struck the ground right behind him and Casey. He could feel the heat from some of them. He was stepping hard, hoping that he wouldn't be hit in the back by a stray round. They made it to the back side of the building in one piece, continuing to sprint. Coore was breathing hard and sweat was rolling down his head. He could see the warthog, sitting dormant. It was all the way on the other end of the building. Edwards was nowhere to be seen.

As they made it to the vehicle, Coore looked back over his shoulder at Casey. "I'm gonna drive!" He called back to her. Then he thought about it for a second. He was a good shot on the LAAG. Back in training, Coore had scored the highest rating for the weapon, exceeding all standards. "Nevermind - you get in the driver seat. I've got the gun."

Coore tossed his rifle onto the back of the 'hog and climbed into the LAAG. He got set up and took a look around. There was no sign of the mechanic at all. Coore aimed down the sights at the far end of the building where they'd come from. The Covenant would be pursuing them, no doubt. Casey hopped into the warthog a second later and started up the engine. The vehicle shook as it started, and Coore felt a huge wave of relief. Edwards must've gotten it repaired.

"Step on it!" He yelled at Casey. She was still leaving the warthog idle. _The hell is she doing? _The Covenant troops rounded the far side of the building. Jackals and grunts and the elite major. Coore opened up with the machine gun, his arms shaking as he fired away. The bullets tore down the defenses of the jackals, ripping them apart. The energy shield on the elite gave away, unable to withstand the high powered LAAG rounds. Hot shell casings fell to the warthog, bouncing off of Coore's boots and rolling around. The elite major toppled over and died in a pool of bluish blood. As Coore aimed at the other Covenant troops, he caught a glimpse of the rest of them, coming around the corner at the far side of the building, fast. There wasn't any cover, but they had overwhelming numbers. Coore tried his best to keep them off of the warthog.

"Damnit! What the hell are you waiting for!" He yelled at Casey for the second time.

"Edwards might come!"

"He's dead! Get us the _Hell _out of here!" She finally stomped on the accelerator, and the tires spun before the warthog finally took off. It fishtailed for numerous yards before it straightened out. Coore was still shooting at the Covenant ground troops. Needlers nicked the backside of the warthog.

They made it about 50 yards before Casey turned down a random street and wrecked. She rounded the corner too fast and crashed into an office building on the side of the road. Coore fell down, hard. His back and head hit the warthog, and he felt dazed for a little. He almost fell out of the 'hog, struggling to keep a grip on the lurching warthog. "Shit!" _Maybe I _should've _got in the driver seat._

__Casey went into reverse, backing up a little, and then sped back off down the road. Coore was still trying to stand back up and get on the gun. His entire upper body felt bruised and beaten. He shook his head, clearing his vision. Coore had no idea where to go to, other than Outpost Charlie, so he told Casey to head there. It wasn't that far away.

They turned down some more streets, and Coore kept his guard up. There were bodies in some of the streets that they road down. Dead army troopers and marines. Dead grunts and jackals. They passed by a destroyed wraith tank. The tank was huge up close. It still looked like a threat even though the vehicle was disabled. It towered over the warthog. Then, Coore caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye. Behind them, moving fast.

"We've got company." He called over his shoulder. Casey sped the warthog up, trying to gain some ground on the pursuers.

Coore made out a pair of ghosts, approaching fast. He opened fire with the LAAG, tagging the oncoming ghosts. Their armor was thick in the front, and it absorbed most of the damage from his bullets, but he kept the pressure on them. He aimed at the side wings, hoping to damage them and disable them. Casey was busy swerving and dodging abandoned vehicles in the road, and it threw Coore's aim off a little. The ghosts fired back at them, plasma rounds striking the backside of the warthog. It was heating up back there, fast. Coore kept his head low behind the machine gun, making sure that he kept a small target.

Round after round hit the ghost on the right side. Smoke began to trail from it and the ghost started to wobble a little. It broke off from the attack, turning down a street off to the right. Coore tried to get a shot at the driver but missed. He didn't have time to worry about that one. The other ghost was still hot on their trail. He aimed at the side wings, tagging them and damaging them. Holes were torn open in the armor. Plasma rounds flew by Coore's head, nearly killing him instantly. The warthog was taking a beating, but he continued to keep fire on the ghost. Black smoke began to stream from its engine, taking heavy damage.

"Coore!" Casey yelled from the driver seat. She sounded alarmed and frightened. Coore glanced over his shoulder.

The second ghost, the one that broke off, was now in front of the warthog, firing at the warthog and still managing to dodge the abandoned vehicles somehow. They were in trouble. The ghosts had managed to sandwich them. The windshield cracked, being beaten down by plasma rounds. Casey wouldn't be able to see if the windshield got any worse.

Coore turned back to the ghost behind them. He fired non stop, gritting his teeth and holding on tight to the LAAG. He could hardly feel his arms, and his ears were ringing. The ghost finally had enough. The left wing on it tore off and the driver lost control. It crashed into the side of a building and exploded in a loud blast. An elite was thrown out of the driver seat of it, sliding lifelessly across the ground. Coore had a small moment of victory, before he felt a plasma bolt fly by his head.

He turned the cannon around to face the front and opened up on the already weakened ghost. The front bumper of the warthog was being melted away and destroyed. Black burn spots marked the hood and the windshield was completely blown out. Coore fired at the front mass of the ghost, weakening the armor and tearing into the engine. Electricity bolts began to shriek out of the engine and the ghost slowed down a little. A second later, it exploded in a brilliant flash of blue and white. Pieces of the ghost flew out into the air and rained onto the ground. They drove right through the smoke and wreckage, speeding away from the remains of the ghost.

Coore finally relaxed his grip on the machine gun and took a deep breathe. His knuckles had turned pale from the intense grip that he had on the LAAG for so long. The ringing in his ears was still there, also. His heartbeat rate began to slow down into the normal range now.

The realization that he and Casey were probably the only survivors of First platoon finally struck him. It sent a sickening chill down his spine. In less than a couple of days, their entire platoon had been wiped out. The wounded had been sent to a FOB a long way from here. He had no idea if they even made it. Even Lieutenant Hayes was probably dead. Aloe National Park was taken, just like that. Three phantoms filled with Covenant troops. They hadn't even stood a chance. Coore had thought that they were prepared for an attack, but boy, was he wrong. The battle didn't even last a few minutes.

Coore reached up and peeled off his helmet. His wild black hair hung down low, blocking some of his vision. He shook it out of the way, enjoying the breeze of the wind as it blew through his hair.

* * *

"...We're coming up on it now. Er, we should be." Casey replied to Coore from the drivers seat.

He looked ahead but he didn't see an outpost. He saw a collection of destroyed military structures and buildings, ruined to the core. They slowed down as they approached the front gate. Destroyed vehicles, both Covenant and UNSC. This wasn't even an outpost anymore. It was the aftermath of a horrific battle against the Covenant. "What is this...?" Coore asked to himself. He couldn't shake the strong feeling of defeat roiling through his veins. Charlie was supposed to be the safe haven.

Several marines were inside the gates, watching them as they entered into the outpost. Several. That was all he saw. Casey slowed down and stopped, turning the warthog off. Coore let go of the LAAG and hopped off of the warthog, as one of the marines approached them.

The marine was a little older than Coore. He had dark blue eyes and a slight mustache. There was a bandage on his right cheek and blisters on his arms.

"Are you our reinforcements?" The marine asked.


End file.
